That Fateful Day
by CrystalMoonlightII
Summary: This is the prequel to my story; The Heart or The Fist. Three years ago, before the fifth Iron Fist Tournament; Mike Lennox was scarred by a crushing defeat. In order to truly understand the real meaning of strength; Mike was forced to abandon the man he once was. His journey to rise from the ashes began with the help of the aspiring young boxing prodigy; Steve Fox. (Pre-Tekken 3)
1. The Jaws of Defeat

**This little entry is going to be written as a small prequel story to The Heart or The Fist. Set three years before; it covers the events of Mike's crushing defeat at the hands of Kenji, as well as his struggle to stand on his own feet once more. Several of my readers have asked for this from time to time, so now I'm pleased to be giving it to them.**

**Without any further delay, please enjoy the first planned prequel to Heart or The Fist.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1: The Jaws of Defeat<br>**

All he truly aspires to be is a fighter. For him; life without purpose is a life without any form of knowledge or understanding, and such a fate is worse than death for young Mike Lennox. His belief is that people must have a goal or an aspiration to give their existence some form of point. Simply living for the sake of it is both a sin and a waste. Life with a goal in mind is the only true path for this British Brawler. It is with this exact reasoning in mind that Mikey stands tall and proud in view of the whole world. Currently eighteen years of age; he believes this fight will be the biggest of his life so far.

Eighteen years ago the great: powerful, Mishima Zaibatsu held the second Iron Fist Tournament. Brave warriors from across the world gathered in order to determine who was the most dominant. Out of all of these skilled martial arts practitioners; Heihachi Mishima was the ultimate winner. Almost twenty years on from that date he still stands tall as the leader of the powerful business conglomerate which bares his surname.

The good grace of the elder is also the reason Mike stands in the arena today, and is ready to do battle. Talent scouts who are recruited employed the Zaibatsu scour the world for the most skilled martial artists that the world has to offer. Secretly masquerading as members of the Word Fighting Organization; they then enlist these gifted young men and women into sponsored tournaments, to fight until there is one victor. Young Mr Lennox; with thirteen wins under his belt is here in Tokyo tonight, bathed in lights and glory; for that same reason. This is his first international fight; and if he wins, he will be entered into one of these very same tournaments.

Clad in his favourite three quarter black shorts and vest; barefoot, with his naturally long chocolate brown hair held freely down his back; he is mentally preparing for the fight. His emerald eyes remain locked upon the sight that is his foe. The judges name him as 'Kenji Takanashi.' He's supposedly the son of a major Japanese business enterprise, and is apparently a little over three years older than Mike. Again, that's what the talent scout told the brown-haired fighter anyway.

Clad in a long grey T-shirt with expensive pants, Kenji stands away from Mike. With his hair gelled back smoothly and his expression being of cool, slightly sinister determination, he fixes his eyes upon his British foe. Wasting no time at all, the young Japanese man takes a few calm: coordinated steps across the arena to place himself almost directly in front of his foe.

"It's Kenji, right?" Mike asks in a friendly manner.

There is absolutely no response from Kenji. Instead he's staring coldly at Mike in direct analysis of his form. Mike is feeling really unnerved as he watched him do this. In fact, at one point the glare is so intense that it sends a slightly cold shiver down the Brit's back. This cold; machine like glare goes on for several moments, until Kenji brings his gaze upward to look Mike directly in the eye. Upon doing so his lips curve into a cold: most violently sadistic way.

"What do you fight for, Lennox?" Kenji asks the British man coldly.

"Excuse me?" Mike questions in return; almost surprised by the sharpness of the comment on Kenji's part.

Kenji chuckles sinisterly, "What is your purpose for fighting?"

It takes Mike a moment to compose himself before considering his answer. For a brief moment he falls into deep thought, looking into his heart for his response. Upon finding it, his smile becomes warm.

"I fight to understand the ideal of strength," Mike replies assuredly.

The expression of Kenji conveys icy cold waves of disappointment. In fact; he laughs quietly, in direct mocking of Mike's earlier statement. It's comical! In fact it's so damn hilarious to Mr Takanashi that he cannot stop laughing.

"Then, you fool," Kenji begins, "You have already lost this battle."

Without so much as further acknowledging Mike's existence; the Asian prodigy walks away, his face twisted in severe disinterest. Kenji is thinking cold and brutal thoughts, the likes of which are truly unforgiving. He's plans to destroy this foolish British foe for wasting his time here today. When the talent scouts came to him, his wish was to fight somebody powerful. Instead, they bring him this joke of an opponent.

Before Mike can so much as muster a reply; the lights in the arena dim. Blasting Metal music shreds through the speakers and spotlights illuminate the arena in which the two young fighters stand poised. Through the powerful speaker system; the voice of an announcer crackles.

"Ladies and gentleman," The announcer begins, "Of these two young fighters, Kenji Takanashi, and Michael J Lennox, who will be the victor?"

Members of the crowd of thousands are shrieking ecstatically in response to the gruff: masculine voice of the MC. Several jump up from their sets to wave energetically as the cameras pass them by.

By now the lights all across the arena have blacked out; each and every one, apart from the handful which illuminate the two male combatants in the middle of the ring.

"Three, two, one," The announcer calls loudly.

At the very last moment both Mike and Kenji fall into their respective combat stances. Each stands; fuelled by utter determination, as they prepare to engage in the brutal dance of battle.

"Fight," Yells the announcer, his sheer volume being utterly ear-splitting.

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><p>With a vicious growl Kenji lunges directly toward Mike; blood lust burning within his deep: powerful brown eyes. He desires the rush of battle above all else, and wishes for nothing less than another victory to add to his lengthy list of achievements. Sliding to a stop; he comes crashing into Mike with extreme brutality. The sheer force of the impact sends Lennox sliding backward on his heels. Before he even realises it; Kenji pounces, and he is almost on top of him.<p>

With utterly crushing intensity the Japanese brawler sends his solid; knuckled fists crashing directly into Mike's ribs. Even with his guard up Mike is caught utterly off guard, as his defences are literally smashed down in an instant. The solid strikes from Kenji's knuckles connect directly with the ribs of the bewildered fighter as he snarls in ungodly pain. These strikes are brutally powerful, and are almost unlike anything Lennox has ever felt before. Relenting to the merciless assault, he crumbles. Once Kenji's first violent attack subsides; the London-born fighter staggers back, this being in a desperate attempt to rebuild his broken concentration.

"Shit, this guy's tough," Mike curses between his pained breaths.

In desperation the brown-haired Brit attempts to gain an opportunity. His eyes now connected with the form of his quickly advancing Japanese foe; he begins to look for an opening.

Kenji isn't playing defensively, Mike thinks to himself for a moment. It's that one slim option that he will have to try to capitalize upon, otherwise winning may become difficult. To that end; while Kenji is moving closer, Mikey slams his feet into the ground. Anchoring himself into place tightly, Lennox decides to watch and wait for the final few moments as his foe closes in. Hopefully; if things go as planned, he will be able to pick out a weak spot and cause some serious damage.

Takanashi arrives a few moments later; and as if like clockwork, begins to launch his second assault. All the while, Mike is keeping focused; and strikes savagely as soon as an opening presents itself to him.

"Gotcha, bastard," Mike taunts suavely as he grips Kenji's arm tightly.

Fire burns in Mike's green gemstone-like eyes. With no remorse for his foe, he sends his knee crashing into Kenji's gut; moves behind him, and ferociously kicks him face first into the ground. Landing with an audible smack, the Asian bruiser growls in both extreme anger and discomfort. Surely but surely the young prodigy returns to his feet; the expression which graces his features being an exceedingly cold one, he most certainly looks like he wants to destroy Mike now.

After wiping the blood from his now split lip; Kenji snarls, "This is the end for you, Lennox. I have no further intention of taking it easy on you."

Lennox mockingly shakes his head; a suave smile gracing his lips, "Bring it."

With the intent of obliging his foes wishes; Kenji bolts, taking off like a rocket across the arena. He closes the gap between himself and Mike in a mere instant. Upon arriving directly in front of Mr Lennox; his fists start to move on automatic, they crash brutally into the Brit's body. Kenji's sadistically animal-like strikes impact with force of steel like intensity, savagely pulverizing the body of Mike with sickening strength.

The Brit is utterly overwhelmed in an instant. The pain of such mighty blows proves to be so completely intense that he can raise no sufficient guard against them. They unrelentingly pulverize his body to the point where; eventually, his body goes limp, and is simply absorbing the blows like a sponge. Once final mammoth blow from Kenji is what finally bowls Mike over; sending him crashing to the floor with a loud slam.

That's when the young London fighter feels it; the coldness of the arena floor touching pressed against his body. His senses flare in sheer pain and discomfort, his head spinning in a continuous circle round and round as it threatens to overwhelm his entire sense of self. His vision is blurred due to the unforgiving burn of throbbing agony.

Through cloudy vision Mikey can just barely make it his foe, Kenji. The sinister Japanese fighter stands above him with a sickening expression of sadistic joy. Slowly but surely; he moves closer with every passing second, the sheer animal-like savageness of his powerful aura threatening to knock Mike out cold. Time ticks on, the crowd keep screaming, and the lights continue to bare down upon both fighters.

Kenji remains standing tall; while the second of the two is utterly unable to even crawl off the ground. Step by step; Kenji gets closer and closer until stops. While Mike is unable to make it out through his heavily shaken vision; Kenji is poised to land the finishing blow.

Mike struggles with every shred of energy he has left to climb to his feet, "No… I'm not done yet," He exclaims most painfully.

Kenji laughs; and laughs, and continues to laugh most madly. The weakness of this supposedly powerful foe is totally hilarious. They promised him a foe that would match when he agreed to this fight. He certainly feels like those talent scouts from the Zaibatsu have let him down this time.

Mr Takanashi shakes his head with a cold chuckle; in insult of Mike's attempts to clamber to his feet.

"Oh, just stop it," The Asian fighter mocks, "You are simply humiliating yourself further at this point."

"I suppose I shall be generous enough to put you out of your misery," Says Kenji sarcastically.

Sparing not a speck of brutality, Kenji sends a violent kick slamming into Mike's rib. The British fighter winces; he yells out in utter agony, and is consumed in a wave of overpowering pain. Before long the last of his senses leave him behind for the moment; one by one unplugging, until each and every one has left him. Without so much as a shred of willpower left, Mike slumps head down into the arena floor. He is defeated: his knock out being the symbol of Kenji's overwhelming victory.

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><p>A bell rings out in victorious splendour for Kenji; with crowds screaming and chanting his name. However, the story for Mike is a far less glamorous one to think about. He is sprawled, cold and broken on the floor of the arena. There is no room for dispute when talking about the results of this battle. All that can be said is that Michael James Lennox has been utterly crushed without remorse….<p>

From the crowd, another young fighter watches the end of the battle intensely, with hair of blond and arms baring muscular tone. He shakes his head sadly at the outcome of the battle; as it was his genuine hope that Mike would win this battle against such a cruel and arrogant. This young spectator is a fellow fighter, a new and upcoming boxer; and his name, is Steve Fox….

"That was unlucky, mate," Steve sighs in disappointment.

He and Mike have yet to cross paths directly. They know little of one another beyond the trivial things such as name or news of their fighting careers; but if fate wills it that could certainly change…..

**End of Chapter 1**

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><p><strong>Well, there you have it folks! The first chapter of this prequel story is now finished! I'm sure there's still going to be a few more. So, please keep on reading if you want to find out more. If you want to give me your opinions then please feel free to leave a review as well.<strong>

**Thanks again to all my readers! I'm very grateful; your continued support of Heart or the Fist, and now this story is very much appreciated.**

**See you all later! More will be coming soon!**


	2. Don't Give In

**It's been a little while since I wrote anything for this story, but rest assured that I haven't given up on it at all. In this next chapter we're going to see what has happened to Mike in the crushing aftermath of his defeat. Even the strongest of fighters stumble and fall.**

**Thank you for all the support I've had on this story so far. With that being said, I'm happy to give you all a second chapter!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 2: Don't Give In<strong>

Broken men have no place left to go apart from down. When the tides of battle seem to flow against a man, he always seems to find his way to a drinking establishment. The dingy surroundings of some grunge in infested pub in the back alleys of London have become one such broken man's home.

Mike Lennox, at eighteen years of age, has taken up what can only be described as near permanent residence in the Sunken Mermaid; a tavern of ill repute in the deepest depths of West London. He's as far away from the warmth of his family home in Camden as can be, and right now that is exactly how he wants it. His loss in front of the whole world has crushed the fight out of him.

This slimy venue is a palace of sorts; the likes of which he uses to satisfy his needs, or specifically his main need to patch up gaping emotional wounds, and try to scrub the stains of such a horrendous loss from the pits of his soul. The media don't leave his family alone now; they call the Lennox name worthless, and slowly but surely people have stopped coming to the family gym. Failure isn't even the word to describe the situation. No, it's far worse than that for Mike. His uncle; the closest thing to a father he ever had, worked tirelessly in the years before Mike's birth to gain a reputation he could be proud of. Hell, he even participated in the second Iron Fist Tournament, which was nearly twenty years ago now. He became known throughout London; no, the entire country as a respected martial artist and gym instructor, but now all of that has fallen into ruin.

Lennox sighs, brushing a tired and somewhat drunken hand through his messy, chocolate brown hair, "Another round over here, kay Suzie?"

The barmaid sprawls across the bar lethargically to make eye contact with a very disinterested young Mike. She chuckles with a flare of mock pity, the kind of pity she gives to every customer that comes in here; well, as long as they want to buy another drink. Drunken Mr Lennox casts his eyes upward to take in her all too familiar features.

Suzie Carter, is roughly in her mid to late twenties, with curly; and somewhat crazy dyed orange hair. Her eyes are the deepest blue, the kind that shake the soul and jar the emotions. Most men, when she says something at least, are quite willing and able to answer. Then again, that may well be the overly revealing skirt she insists on wearing in the middle of winter, or the bizarrely placed color tattoo of a cloud on the back of her left hand.

"No, it's gotta be the skirt," Exclaims Mikey, still very much unaware of his thinking aloud.

He finds himself finishing the last of his liquor once these words have left his mouth, and not realizing nor caring about his own strength, he slams the empty glass back down on the bar with a BANG!

"You say something, my lovely?" Asks Suzie, as she pats Mike on the head, at least quite similarly to how a big sister would her kid brother.

Her thick cockney accent invades Mike's ears. It makes him clench his eyes shut in a less obvious wince of annoyance. Instead of being mean though, he simply shakes his head, "Nah. another drink here please, okay Suzie?"

Suzie doesn't hear his earlier comment, or at least she chooses not to, instead pulling herself back up so her ample sized cleavage is no longer spilling onto the bar, "Coming right up, Mikey boy."

Mike listens intently to her heels clacking away in the direction of the liquor cabinet. Scoffing, he sprawls on the bar himself and sighs, "God, this pub. Dammit…"

Sitting in this watering hole day after day seems to be the closest thing to a sense of purpose that this young brawl fighter has now. Damn, it's been a month since his return from Japan, and he's spent near enough every day hanging around in here. Perhaps even more worrying is that he's even got to know a couple of the patrons in this dark, dreary place.

While Mike waits for his drink, he gives his head a lethargic turn to the left so that he can get a good glance at the man sat beside him. His peepers catch the sight of a tired, crinkly skinned gentleman in his late fifties; who seems to religiously wear the same attire of a tatty overcoat and vest, completed by a pair of faded old crosshatch trousers. Here he sits in the same chair at the bar every day, his mission apparently being to consume as much of the cheap ale as possible before watching the afternoon football match. Mike doesn't know his real name, but a nickname has reached his ears. According to the barmaids at least, this cranky, sport obsessed booze hound is Uncle Jimmy.

As if on a mission of his own, Mike's sleepy green eyes continue to scan the drinking establishment in their same robotic fashion. He catches sight of the sinister old cat lady in the corner. Her presence causes a shiver to crawl down his spine. She is likewise always in that same darn spot, being positioned right beside dusty old slot machine, and with her usual double gin sat beside her on the stained table at which she always appears to sit.

With a hopeless shake of his head; Mike looks away; quickly bringing his attention back to the empty glass on the bar in front of him. He flinches suddenly; being snapped out of his sleepy trance, after seeing the empty glass get pulled away and replaced with a full one. A half arsed sigh escapes his lips, with him bringing his eyes up to give a gloomy glance at Suzie.

"Thanks. Double Dean's Vodka with a splash of Lemon, that's just what I needed," Mike curls his fingers around the glass to pull it closer.

Suzie half-playfully ruffles Mike's hair to try and brighten his mood. He groans; with annoyance being an understatement, but the young barmaid with her wild hairdo still chuckles, "Oh, cheer up, you miserable bastard," She cackles.

"Oh, I'm fine; I'm fine," Mike grimly protests, "This one's going on my tab, yeah?"

Suzie's thumbs up is all the reply that young Lennox needs. With intent to drown those sorrows; he brings the glass up to his lips, swallows the majority of the liquid, and loudly clears his throat to counter the burn of the booze.

The sound of the old jukebox in the corner is drowned out by a deafening bang of the old wooden door into the pub being swung open rather sharply.

Uncle Jimmy bares an unimpressed scowl, "Damn kids," Before wasting no time going back to his usual glass of dark ale.

There's no interest generated from Mike at all. He doesn't even care to move, with the majority of focus being placed on the drinking of his beverage. There's a shrug from his disinterested shoulders, before slouching back against the bar to finish his alcohol. Though his ears hear footsteps coming in his direction; their light thump against the ground getting ever closer, there's no response on the part of this young British brawler.

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><p>The screeching sound of someone pulling up a chair beside Mike splits his ears with pain. His face contorts, as his expression is overtaken a wince of discomfort because of his hearing. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of somebody with blond hair. Whoever they are, they're sitting right beside him.<p>

"Beer please, alright love?" says the patron beside Mike quite enthusiastically.

His voice carries over; with young Lennox picking up the sounds. Whoever this guy is, the sound of a thick London accent, much more extreme than Mike's carries over.

Having a new customer come in changes Suzie's entire persona; she smiles warmly, with her attitude being that of sunshine. With a stroll over to the young gentleman, she connects her eyes with his.

"Welcome, welcome!" she announces warmly.

Reaching down beneath the counter, Suzie reaches down for a beer; with her nimble fingers clasping around it before whacking it down on the counter.

"Sorry, sweetheart," She begins apologetically, "You look a little young. Going to need to see your ID before open this for you."

The young man smiles warmly; being more than happy to do what he's asked, "Not a problem! Here, take a look," He follows up with a friendly flare in his voice. He gently slides the card across the bar; and it is caught swiftly by the tips of Suzie's fingers.

Her lovely ocean blue eyes focus in so that she can have a quick glance at the ID in further detail. So that she doesn't lose track; she is most certain to read aloud.

"Okay…. Steve Fox, you're almost Nineteen, born just outside of London," Suzie looks up with a content little grin on her face, "Yep, I've seen enough," She declares with a friendly tone before popping the cap off Steve's beer, "Enjoy it!"

Mike knows just who Steve is just by the mention of his name. This guy is one of the best; no, he's the best upcoming middleweight boxer in the whole country. Even at his young age it's all over the news that he's trying for the world title. Such a thought makes Mike sting, because it causes him to remember the painful truth of something. The news of his crushing defeat last month is still plastered around the TV networks too.

There's no need for Lennox to talk, he doesn't want to socialize. Far from it, more than anything being left alone is what he truly desires right now. It's been weeks since he's set foot in the family gym and trained, and even longer since he helped his uncle James train some of the students. Right now he doesn't want any of it. It just reminds him of how he failed.

"Hey, hey you! Listen to me, pal," Steve requests in a somewhat upfront manner to Mike.

Fox has his head turned slightly; he's looking straight at Mike, "You're Lennox, aren't you? Your uncle told me I might find you in here. I went to his gym to ask for you."

Yeah! What of it?" The emerald eyed fighter spits his remark quite bitterly.

Steve gives a smile of friendly intent, "Look…. I saw your fight at the arena a couple of weeks ago. I was there, and I wanted to track you down and talk to you."

With a turn of the head, Mike scowls most bitterly at Steve, with his glass clutched so tightly in hand it's likely he's going to crack it, "I don't want to talk about it," Protests Mike with venom in his hateful voice, "Leave me be, you shouldn't have come here."

Steve isn't backing off, not just yet anyway, "Hey, don't be like that! C'mon, mate. Truth be told, I wanted to fight you, see what you're made of."

Rage beyond imagine is burning through Mike's body. With every heartbeat he's getting angrier, which is likely a combination of pent up frustration and booze. "Keep pushing me like this, and you're gonna get your wish, Fox."

A sense of victory is building within Steve. That kind of response is what he wants. After all, his reason for coming here was quite a personal one, "Glad to see some fire in your eyes," He taunts quite cooly.

Unable to contain it any longer, there's a colossal explosion of frustration on Mike's part, "Ohhh, alright then! That's how it's gonna be? How about we take this outside? I'll be happy to silence those smart arse comments of yours."

Steve shakes his head sternly as a gesture that he's easing off the gas, "No, mate, sorry! Truth be told, I wouldn't mind going a round or two with you, just not like this. Why not grab a coffee and sober up a bit? Then we can talk seriously."

Such a drunken state is slurring Mike's brain a little. He isn't going to deny that simple truth. Hearing Steve say he actually WANTS to fight is enough to get his attention though.

"Did you say you WANT to fight me?" The Brit questions the boxer beside him.

Steve, only half way through his beer, slides it aside to concentrate more on the conversation. He smiles an honest smile, the kind of which one friend gives to another, "That's right mate, yes. Like I said, I saw your fight, and would you like to know what I think?"

Mikey's nod is a somewhat cautious one to say the least, "Go on," He responds carefully.

"I think you're a much better fighter than you let people know! You have a lot more skill Mike Lennox. You just have to find the determination and confidence to let it out!"

There are no words Mike can muster for such praise. Well, what he believes is praise anyway. The dumbfounded look he has is priceless to Steve, "You really serious? No shit, like?" Lennox asks in bewilderment.

A bitter chuckle is the best Steve can give to Mike in his current alcohol fuelled state. He stands, while moving to place a hand on the shoulder of his new acquaintance.

"Well," Steve begins enthusiastically, "If you want to find out for yourself, meet me at your uncle's gym tomorrow! Sober up, get your head straight and you can show me just how good you are!"

There's no more time for words. Steve Fox is already walking away from Mikey. He stops just short of the door, with a pause in his footsteps, "Don't let me down. Tomorrow at noon; okay Mike Lennox?"

After that, he's quickly walks and vanishes from sight, out of the bar and already long gone.

There's no energy left in Mike, so he just gives a small nod of agreement. For a very long time he's looking at the glass, over and over, like in some desperate alternate world he may just find something. In the end he shakes his head however. It's the moment when every broken man realises that they can make so much more out of their life.

"You know what? Fuck it!" Mike exclaims with extreme loudness.

He stands triumphant from his seat, half sober, half tipsy from several rounds of sauce, and begins to make his own move for the door.

"It hurt to lose, but it's gonna hurt more if I let all that I am waste away in this shit heap…. You're on, Steve Fox," The Brit declares with a whole heart.

It's time to dry up, get his brain in gear, and prepare to make a damn comeback. Ever since he was a child he's been a fighter, just like his uncle was before him. Plus, Steve's kind compliment; combined with his challenge, have made Mike realize something very important.

When you've hit the bottom of the barrel, the only way to go is up. That is exactly where Michael James Lennox intends to go too, up. Tomorrow at noon, he's going to stand and fight, for his own sake, and for the sake of his future.

**End of Chapter 2**

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><p><strong>Alright! So here we are at the end of the chapter! Another piece of the story that is Mike's humble beginning has been told. I really do hope you folks are enjoying the prequel so far! If you enjoyed it please feel free to leave feedback if you would like.<strong>

**Once again, I'm grateful for all the support of my readers, and I shall see you all very soon with the next chapter! Thank you very much for taking the time to read this. Steve is one of my favourite characters to, so it's very enjoyable to write him!**

**See you all later in the next chapter!**


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